


Tentative Beginnings

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [96]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutilation, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2955530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One week of sharing a house, John is awakened by Peter screaming and starts to realize he has feelings for the werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tentative Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo prompt: nightmares, and second in this short unnamed series. I foresee about five stories, written for prompts so they may not quite connect, but I will post them in chronological order and hope to end in an explicit rating. Thanks for the almost immediate love for the first story!

It takes seven nights for Peter to break down. John's surprised only that it didn't happen sooner. As the agonized screams wake him and drag him from his bed, for a moment he's taken back over three years to Stiles screaming them both awake from his nightmares.

He just hopes Peter's are normal and not supernaturally induced.

Opening the door to the guest room, he quickly crosses the floor to the bed, the light from the half moon and stars shining through the uncovered window guiding his path.

Peter is on his back, every muscle tight, eyes tightly screwed shut. There are tears on his cheeks and his lips are drawn back, revealing the healed holes where his canines were removed. As John carefully sits on the bed next to him, Peter's screams die to sobs, and the broken wolf curls into himself and away from John.

When John tries to touch him, he flinches away.

"I'm...I'm okay," the wolf stammers, voice hoarse from screaming. "I'm sorry."

Something inside John clenches painfully and he lays a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder, refusing to let him draw away again. "It's okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Won't help."

"You sure?"

Huffing, Peter turns on to his back, swiping at his wet cheeks, and John's hand follows the turn, going from shoulder blade to chest. Unlike his son, Peter doesn't seem to wear a shirt to sleep in, and he finds himself startled at the feel of warm, naked skin.

It's been a long time since he's touched any but his own.

That thought startles him as well and he looks from the placement of his hand to Peter's face, and finds blue eyes narrowing as they drift down to the hand on his chest.

For a week they've been surprisingly companionable. John's gone to work--days mostly now--trusting Peter with his house, to come home to find dinner being prepared and the house tidied. They've spent their evenings talking, watching tv, even going over case files. Peter's insightful, interesting, and a damn good cook.

He's also revealed a few things about himself--he drinks up even casual affection and light touches, he likes being needed, his mind being appreciated.

And John knows that if he jerks his hand away that will break whatever comfortable trust has grown between them.

So, he smiles, lets his hand slide up to Peter's shoulder to squeeze it lightly, then takes it away as he rises. "Come on, it's nearly six. Let's have an early breakfast and talk if you want."

At Peter's nod, John retreats to his own room to use the bathroom, put on his robe and slippers, and try not to think about how good Peter's chest felt beneath his fingers.

Downstairs, he starts the coffee, then pulls eggs, bacon and bread out. Before he can even do anything with the food, Peter's there, wearing only a pair of sweat pants, his face dry of tears, his hair sleep-tousled. With a nudge of his hip, he takes over making breakfast and John goes to the cupboards for plates and mugs. Breakfast of scrambled eggs, the rare real pig bacon, and toast is ready by the time the coffee pot turns off, and they sit down at the table with full plates.

"You know, you don't have to cook all the time." It's an argument he's tried at nearly every meal and, like each of those, earns him only an enigmatic look and a smirk. With a sigh, John tastes the perfectly cooked eggs, letting them dissolve on his tongue, and wonders if he can ever go back to his always rubbery ones. The bacon is crisp, not a speck of it burned; the toast evenly browned. John's not at all sure where the raspberry jam came from, though he suspects the organic market which he avoids as the prices are ridiculous.

They don't talk again during the meal. As dawn breaks, he washes up while Peter goes to dress, and then they sit back down with fresh coffee, and John waits patiently.

Finally, the wolf sighs into his mug, and mutters, "It was the fire. Haven't had a nightmare about that in years. The doctors kept asking me if I did; seemed to think it would be a good thing."

"Why?"

Peter shrugs his shoulder and sips his coffee. "Nightmares are one of the mind's way of dealing with traumatic events. That I stopped having them about the fire years before I came out of the catatonic state, led them to believe that I was suppressing the pain and not dealing with it, which led to me becoming psychotic." He takes another sip and dully adds, "Maybe if I'd had the nightmares while in Eichen House they wouldn't have..." His hand goes to his lips, then he shakes his head in frustration. "No, they wouldn't ever risk letting me out whole."

Wanting to comfort, but not sure how it will be received, John cautiously reaches out and lays his fingers across the back of the hand that rests a top the table. When Peter doesn't pull away, he runs his thumb over the knuckles.

He knows there's no way to give Peter back what he lost--no one with the power will break those spells and the wolfsbane is fused to the bone--and he also knows what was done was necessary, but he wishes there had been a more humane way to keep the dangerous parts of Peter suppressed.

Of course, Peter is still dangerous, can still kill, but during this past week John has begun to see that Peter doesn't want to become the killer again. There is true regret in him, even if he hesitates to talk about it. While letting him into his home originally was a way to gauge the level of possible violence in him and to get into his mind to determine if he's a danger to John's county, he's now determined to keep Peter on the path he seems to want to stay on, as a man, broken, but not ruined, as one who wants to do something positive with his life.

So, he hasn't brought up the idea of Peter getting his own place, and has found that having him around eases the loneliness John didn't even realize he was feeling.

As the wolf gives him a slight smile, John pats the hand beneath his, then squeezes it before standing. "Take it easy today, okay? And, hey, why don't we go out to dinner?"

Peter's eyebrows shoot up and John feels himself flushing because that kind of sounded like he was asking him out on a date, but then Peter relaxes and nods. "Okay."

"Seven o'clock at Marios?" It's a family style Italian place, nothing romantic about it, but the food is great and he won't have to wear a jacket or tie.

"I'll make the reservation. Let me know if work holds you up?"

"Yeah, definitely." Feeling a bit awkward and knowing Peter's watching him, John retreats from the kitchen, wondering what the heck is going on.

And wondering why he doesn't seem to mind that something is going on.

End


End file.
